this place

There is a sunflower seed stuck under my "T" key.

ggggggg555555555555555555555555tttttttgggffrryy

That was me trying to get it out.  I think it's gone now.  

Coconut Milk & Ginger Iced Cream.

I don't really like talking about my "feelings" here anymore it's not safe, not a safe place.  Scrutinies.    

Let's talk about 

things I did and

shit.

I just picked five Westerns from the 1980s to write a paper on for Tuesday.  I will be watching a lot of Westerns this weekend.  I tried to get a "variety:"  Straight to Hell, The Last Days of Frank and Jesse James (starring Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, & Willie Nelson!?), Pale Rider, The Long Riders (I may change this one), and Man From Snowy River (Australian lovey Western I watched a lot as a child).  

Go Go Netflix Go.

guard llama

guard

llama

creation of the antichrist

1/2 onion, caramelized in butter over low heat

remove onion from pan, spread out in bottom of small bowl

add 1 middling hunk cream cheese into pan

add 1 large spoonful of chunky peanut butter

stir and melt, removing from heat if things get too... hot

add cumin, curry powder, paprika, whateverthefuck else

dash of rice vinegar

spoon over caramelized onions

chill, or don't

spread thinly on toasted pita bread

take one small bite, this is all you are allowed 

of the antichrist

today

i need to find a way to make this less plebeian.  fresh jalapenos?  use as pasta/noodle sauce?  

HOW

Passion de Jeanne

Yes, yes.

"sometimes i wish i had a farm where the only pollution is your cigarettes"

Lately I can't ever decide what to feed myself in a reasonable amount of time.  I don't eat all day and then come home and stare in my cupboards, and fridge, and do all the dishes, and sit around thinking about it, planning, then get up and stare in the cupboard again and examine the nutritional content of my dry goods, then close the cupboard.

Then later in a lightheadedness I eat sour gummis (worms or octopodes).  And sunflower seeds.  And fruity alcoholic drinks.  And then just sweet alcohol, until sleeptime.

This isn't a big thing.  I eat other stuff when I'm with people, like I have to have guidance on what to purchase or make for myself.  I make things for myself when I plan them well in advance and work myself into a longing for them.  But otherwise, it's like nothing sounds good enough.  Like, why eat unless it sounds really, really good?

I do a lot of that lately, relying on other people.  "I don't care what we do.  I'm up for anything."  Because it's true.  I don't know how to make plans for myself.  I don't know how to gracefully instigate minor social events.  I just want to be doing things, always, with people I like, like I've been missing out for way too long, sitting in a stupor.   

I was just looking at the sugar insanity I've been eating and remembered writing about the things I was mildly obsessed with last summer, when I was in the garden and going to Beat Poetry class and happy: Orange soda, red vines, and pistachios.  And rum.  I am anticipating the warmth.

IT IS ALL A PATTERN.

IT IS ALL A PATTERN.

Today when I got home there was a box outside my door from Hawaii containing eight pounds of various Kona coffees.

Life feels so good to me all the time lately.  

I smile every time I walk up the stairs to my home, seriously, it is weird.  

There's a Ben Kweller song, "My Apartment"...

  

fire

When you've forgotten your lighter and haven't had a cigarette yet though it's after noon and you're hunting for a smoker, prowling for a stranger putting a thin white stick to their lips to bum a flame from but there are none, nose in the air for a hint of acrid burnt tobacco but there is none,

and suddenly there's a full fresh book of matches on the concrete right in front of you,

you feel like everything's going to be okay.   

womanimal

I was born wired

to shockbuzz and bristle

at the sight of a snake in the grass.

I can temper myself to the 

notion of maggots, 

"important ecological component,"

"kind of like baby bees,"

but when confronted with a frothy mass

things get confusing;

Are they gorging on rotten meat,

or boring through the soft flesh of my cheek?

Every fear is a superfluity of staying alive.

The beesy bees soothe me with their

beeswax and honey and smoke-addled drone.

Fruit and grain left too long 

warm and fulfill in tricky ways, tricky tricky

sticky liquor, a fine and funny friend.

If I said I could know you by the smell of you,

the way my hips know they need to move

like a sweet polleny buttercup to a bee bee bee...

What if I bristled and drank and said I could know you

by the smell of you?    

_________________________________

This bitch in the next cubicle in the stacks won't shut the fuck up about how blackout drunk she got and roommate drama whine whine whine I'm thinking about ripping a loud fart, one like you can tell is totally on purpose, just for fun.  

Oh cooool now she and her boyfriend are kissing and whispering a lot.

Oops I forgot to register for fall semester.

Okay that's done, rock and roll.  Pretty sure I'll be done at the end of it.